


leave all your loving and your longing behind

by the north remembers (jaburr)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Established Relationship, Face Slapping, Jealousy, M/M, Pining, Threesome, possessive!Jon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 04:45:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19221850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaburr/pseuds/the%20north%20remembers
Summary: Theon can see something familiar in those grey eyes, something Theon had rebelled against until it finally got him here.





	leave all your loving and your longing behind

**Author's Note:**

> title is from dog days are over by florence + the machine 
> 
> also this is my first explicit sex scene on here- be gentle.

Theon had spent years hiding it. He’d made sure Robb never noticed the way his eyes lingered when they’d undressed and gone to splash in the hot springs, or the way he observed Robb getting tackled into the dirt by Jon during sparring practice, Theon barely seventeen. He’d kept those feelings to himself, buried deep, but they oft tried to come roaring out. It was hard to stop looking at Robb now, both of them men grown, and Theon many a time nearly faltered, but Robb never noticed. He never noticed Theon’s gazes, his feather light touches, his playful teasing because Jon was always with them, stealing Robb’s smiles and laughter that were Theon’s. He hated the bastard. Hated him because he had something Theon didn’t, would never have. Jon and Robb were inseparable as children, Robb following Jon like a lost pup, and now as men Jon dutifully protected Robb like he was a sworn bannerman not his half brother, slowly but surely edging Theon out. Jon worshiped Robb, and Robb worshiped him, Theon left to watch and it made him sick. 

He knew they thought they were discreet, leaning into each other at particularly boisterous feasts, all brotherly touches and whispered secrets and they never  _ did _ anything remotely damming in front of anyone, they both knew the price of a mistake like that- and perhaps they were fooling the Starks, and the visiting Lords and Ladies and the whole bloody lot of Winterfell but Theon could see right through it, because he did all of those things to try and capture Robb’s affections. He’d caught them once, writhing against each other in the dead of night in Jon’s chambers, far from the rest of the castle, and he knows he shouldn’t have stayed to watch what Jon did to Robb, it had only made him more jealous of the bastard. He’d not meant to watch, had thought briefly of tattling on them like a child, and it would be satisfying to see Jon be banished off to the wall, far north, or to hand Ned Stark the mighty sword that would send Jon Snow’s head rolling into the grass. Robb would never forgive him for such a thing though, and he pushed the idea into the far recesses of his mind. He’d stayed hidden in the shadowy reaches of the room, back to the slightly open door and the candle flickered dimly upon them. The way they rutted together was obscene, Jon’s hands fisted in Robb’s curls, mouths sliding slick across each other hurriedly. Theon allowed himself to imagine instead of Jon it was him on top of Robb, swallowing his breathy moans and pulling his auburn hair, sinking his teeth into the alabaster skin of Robb’s throat.  _ He _ was the one dragging those whimpers from Robb, bringing him pleasure and wringing it from him so sweetly. He scampers out of the room as Jon  _ finally  _ pushes into Robb, their moans filling the quiet chamber and Theon escapes back to his own bed, curls his fingers around his own cock and imagines that it’s Robb’s warm mouth instead. 

“Theon?” A knock sounded at the door, Robb’s voice. 

“You can come in.” Theon had pulled his breeches back up, thankful for the thick furs, and Robb crept in the room, shutting the door behind him. He looked so small, frail even, staring at Theon in the dim light, hardly a wolf.

“I wanted to speak to you about something, Theon.” Robb crosses to sit at the foot of the bed, picking a thread loose from one of the furs. “Jon saw you, earlier.” At least he wastes no time in getting to the point. 

“Saw me do what? I’ve been here all night.” Theon hates how easily he lies to Robb, his friend, the man he loves desperately and fiercely. 

 

“You were watching us.” Robb’s tone hardens. His eyes flash with irritation, but Theon knows he’s terrified. 

“I was not.” 

“Yes you  _ were,  _ Theon, don’t fucking deny it to me.” Robb is angry now, fear gone, nearly shouting. Theon just stares at his mouth, the way it’s twisted into a thin line. He even looks handsome when he’s furious. 

Theon sits up against the headboard. “I saw you, and the bastard, and I won’t tell your Lady mother, is that what you’ve come to ask of me? I wouldn’t do that to you Robb.” He says, voice clipped. 

“Please.” Is all Robb replies with, and Theon is overcome suddenly with the urge to laugh, the heir to the North begging his father’s ward for something. It’s comical, but he doesn’t laugh, for Robb is truly worried. 

“No one will know.” Robb nods, slips out silently and Theon assumes he goes back to lay with Jon again, jealousy pooling in his belly, churning in his chest. He ignores the two of them for over a fortnight, and he can tell it’s hurting Robb that he won’t speak to him. They used to spend time together constantly, talking late into the night, and since Theon had seen them that night Robb doesn’t come by as often. It hurts, but he doesn’t care, decides he doesn’t care so much that he goes to Wintertown and spends his evenings with Ros and her auburn hair.

 

The King comes to Winterfell, and Theon can no longer ignore Jon and Robb, crammed into bed next to them, forced to share a chamber while the King and his royal company stay. They’re considerate the first few nights, even though when Theon wakes before them he can see the way Robb is splayed across Jon, comfortable and pliant and habitual. 

He knows they think he is asleep, one night, but he can hear the filth Jon is whispering in Robb’s ear. “I bet you would love that, to be taken by your bastard brother and the ward.” Jon says low, Robb’s moaning muffled by Jon’s shoulder, and Jon tells him to shut up amicably. 

“I don’t care if he hears us.” Robb breathes deep, and Theon opens an eye lazily, can barely make out their shapes next to him, watches as Jon flips Robb underneath him, and he’s close enough that Theon could touch him. He refrains, hears Robb panting next to him, and stretches his fingers to ghost over Robb’s hipbone. 

“Theon?” He hears Jon, gruff, and opens both eyes, still caressing Robb’s hip, and they both stare at him for a moment, until Robb curls his hand behind Theon’s neck and pulls him in for a kiss, hot and messy. Jon growls, indignant, before Theon pulls away and scratches his fingers across his jaw. 

“I’ve waited a long time for this Snow.” Theon squeezes his face, hard, until Jon rips away and broods quietly, rolling slowly off of Robb to sit at his feet. Theon directs his gaze to those big blue eyes, wide and pleading, and the  _ need _ hits him like a wave, crashing. 

“Theon, please.” He sounds utterly wanton, bucking under Theon’s practiced fingers, and it’s nice, he thinks, to see the bastard is jealous of  _ him  _ for once. Theon cages him in underneath him, hands resting on either side of his head, leans in to capture his mouth again. Robb whines, presses harder into him and fists his hands into Theon’s hair, pulling him down further against him. He’s forgotten about Jon, moving rhythmically against Robb’s hips, his hot breath against his mouth.

“Please what, Robb.” Theon presses his fingers, presses until there’s enough give for him to slip one inside and Robb jolts against him, moans into his neck and Theon cranes to bite his jaw, working his finger. Robb’s lips are chapped, his eyes bright and nearly black, and Theon can just barely make out the freckles running across his shoulders in the dimness of the candlelight. He’s beautiful, more beautiful than any woman Theon had ever taken, and he tells him, tells him just to hear Robb sob, arch against him. 

Theon registers the slap against the back of his thigh before Jon actually speaks. “Just fuck him already, Theon.” He’s hard, watching the two of them, his lover and his enemy, and yet Theon can see something familiar in those grey eyes, something Theon had rebelled against until it finally got him here.

“I want to hear him _beg_. Shut up, Jon.” Theon slaps him then, as Snow opens his mouth to speak, and he hears Jon let out a choked moan, trying to conceal it, and Theon turns back to the man shoving down on his fingers beneath him. 

“ _ Please what,  _ Robb.” Theon presses his fingers against the bundle of nerves, crooks until Robb nearly screams, burying his face into Theon’s neck, heaving. 

“Gods, Theon, fuck me, please.” He’s whining, and Jon moves then, kisses Robb, hands scraping against the taut lines of his stomach. Theon removes his fingers, watches them kiss and rut as he finds the oil, rubbing it over himself before nudging Jon out of the way. Jon whispers something to Robb, something that makes him bite his lip, and Theon shoves in, and Robb bites his lip so hard blood starts to pool beneath his teeth, and Jon dutifully swipes his tongue across it. It’s good, and Robb looks so wrecked under him, pressing back to meet his hard thrusts, Jon’s hands on his cock, on his throat, gentle, and Theon doesn’t want this to end, fucks into Robb harder and he can’t look away from him.

It’s starting to be too much, and Jon is kissing Robb again, swallowing all the soft sounds and Theon-not for the first time- wishes Jon wasn’t here. He wants to hear the noises Robb is making, finally because of him, not Jon, but he doesn’t say anything, bites Robb’s shoulder and suddenly shudders through his orgasm which hits him all at once. Robb is crying, begging unintelligibly for Jon or Theon, and everything is a haze, and he slumps back against the pillow, watching as Jon practically engulfs Robb in his arms, sliding in and Robb moans, Jon’s hand working over him hard. Theon’s vision is swimming, and Robb is so  _ loud, _ jerking against Jon’s hand and pressing down to meet him, and it’s the most fluid motion he’s ever seen. 

Theon fucks, for he is an Ironborn, raised by the salt of the sea and the harshness of fishermen. He has never made love, and while the concept is foreign he watches the way Jon slows the snap of his hips, caressing Robb’s jaw and kissing his sweat slicked forehead, whispering something against the swell of his cheekbone that has Robb gasping and coming in his hands. Jon seems to finish with him, and the three of them lie in a sweaty naked heap, panting, and Theon knows he’ll never truly have what Jon does. For what Jon possesses is a love deeper than any other love, and as Theon watches Robb curl into his arms, sated and breathless, blue eyes gazing up at  _ the bastard _ of all people, he knows Robb will never look at him that way. It turns his stomach still, that Robb will never be truly his, only his. As he’s contemplating leaving the two of them to their reverent worshiping of each other- because as much as he craves it, honestly it’s sickening- Robb’s hand finds his across the furs, squeezing his fingers. Robb grins at him, and Theon finds himself smiling back despite Jon’s scowl.

“Better than watching, huh Greyjoy?” Jon mutters, possessively gripping Robb tighter against his chest. Theon likes the way his split lip looks, juxtaposed against pale skin and raven hair. Theon likes that for days to come Jon will remember it was Theon who hit him so hard he bled, and that he liked it. 

“I’d say, Snow.” Theon moves closer to Robb, sandwiching him between himself and Jon, who hums contentedly. They’re decent enough to give him a moment to recover before Robb’s eyes are shining bright up at him as he swallows down Theon’s cock, Jon’s hand on the back of his neck. 

 

Theon doesn’t try to catch them anymore, leaves them to their trysts. It hurts enough to know that they will always go back to each other, to know that Robb will always choose Jon. He doesn't avert his eyes anymore when they go to the springs, allows his eyes to roam across Robb until he turns bright red and jumps into the springs to avoid his hot gaze. He flirts with Robb shamelessly, if only to rile up Jon, and the mornings following Robb always walks a little funny, Theon knows though, when Lords and Ladies come to Winterfell, he will have Robb, if only for the night, and he savors the noises and the way Robb writhes underneath him for the evenings that follow. 

Theon knows it will never be enough, to have Robb so fleetingly, to take him apart and have Jon piece him back together so sweetly. Robb was blind to anyone but Jon, worshiped him like he was one of the Seven, and Theon hated it, the jealousy burned through his stomach to his heart and threatened to swallow him whole. He could pretend though, Robb had chosen him, after they’d spent and his fingers met Robb’s across the furs, soft. It had to be enough, and so it was. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!! comments / kudos / constructive criticism are all greatly appreciated


End file.
